Weathering the Storm
by rhpoifan
Summary: Takes place post The Crossing. Reese hasn't been around helping with the numbers, so Fusco goes to check on him. They talk and Fusco leaves Reese with something he hopes will help bring him back.


Fusco handed Finch the documents he requested. "You guys need my help on this one?"

"I'll let you know, detective."

"Is our mutual friend working this number?"

"He's not," Finch replied. "He's away at the moment."

"Away where?"

"Thank you for your assistance, detective. I'll call you if we need you."

Fusco left. But maybe he was needed. He thought about where John Reese could be. He knew what was keeping him from the job. Reese had also lost a partner. If Finch wasn't able to reach him, maybe Fusco could.

* * *

At the end of his shift that day, Fusco shut down his computer and waited for the screen to go dark. The detective looked at the desk across from his where his partner used to sit. He still hadn't gotten used to Carter not being there. He called Finch.

Reese had made it clear to Finch that he needed time away from the machine and numbers, so he hesitated when Fusco asked for Reese's location. Fusco explained to him that, as a friend, he wanted to check on John. Finch finally obliged, "I'll send you an address. The situation is quite," Finch paused, "delicate, detective. Please exercise caution."

* * *

Fusco arrived at the address and found the door open a crack. Slightly afraid of what he might find, the detective opened the door slowly and entered with one hand resting on his gun. The apartment was only lightly furnished given the space. Fusco walked through the kitchen and saw three empty bottles in the sink. He turned and loosened his grip on the gun. There was Reese, sitting in a chair by the window with an almost empty glass on the small table next to him.

Had this been a few weeks ago, Reese likely would have made some comment about needing to immediately relocate now that Fusco knew where he lived. But this was not a side of John Reese that Fusco had seen over the last two years.

He had seen the man in the suit combative, threatening, protective, endangered … this was him devastated.

"John." Fusco said it almost as a question. Carter had called him John with such ease, but it wasn't so for Fusco. Yet there Reese was, very human in this moment. He was not the vigilante, not the hero, not the man in the suit. He was a man grieving over great loss.

"How many of those you go through?" Fusco asked, nodding toward the bottles in the kitchen. He eased up, "If you've got more, I'll take a couple off your hands."

"I can't help with the numbers anymore, Lionel."

"Can't or won't?" Not waiting for a reply, Fusco continued, "That's okay, the current number is under control… for now. Just thought I'd swing by to make sure you weren't in any trouble… or causing any trouble."

"Well, you've done your duty."

"Yeah, and now I see you're doing just fine," Fusco replied in his usual tone.

Fusco walked over to one of the windows near Reese, which overlooked a park. Walled by trees, the park was surrounded by buildings that towered above it.

"I've been the bad guy. Been the good guy too. Maybe you gotta be both to really make the choice."

Reese was still staring out the window.

Fusco continued, "But I've seen there's an in-between too. Not hurting anybody, not helping anybody either. That's probably the safest place to be, but I don't know how long a person can hang out in that limbo."

Reese continued to look out the window. Why Joss? All the numbers they had saved and he couldn't save her.

He was a different man than he was in 2011. He didn't have the same regrets now. He told Joss how he felt. And he didn't wish he had chosen a different path because his path led him to all of this, led him to her. Wishing he could go back to before he was a CIA operative would be wishing to go back to a time before he knew her, and that he could never do. But there was a guilt, a regret that was rearing its head once again - he wasn't able to protect someone he loved. And it broke him even harder this time. If he didn't wear the pain as heavily, it was only because the last two years had made him stronger. She had made him stronger.

Tears welled up in Reese's eyes.

Fusco spoke up. Swept up in thought, Reese had forgotten he was there.

"Besides, I've got too much time on my hands without you ordering me around."

Reese turned toward Fusco. "You can't change my mind," he said. "Nobody can." They were words of resolve spoken in a tone of hopelessness.

"Nobody, huh?"

Fusco saw the tears in his eyes before Reese turned away.

"Found something interesting at Carter's place," Fusco said.

Reese turned to face him again.

"Look, John, you don't have to come back right away, but I don't know how long you can linger in that limbo. Believe me, I know the feeling, you may not know if you can get out of it." Fusco pulled something out of his jacket pocket. "But I think she knew." Fusco started to leave, placing the item on the kitchen island as he passed it. "If I don't see you around, I'll be back to check in later."

Fusco nodded at Reese then turned to leave the kitchen, making his way to the front door, which he closed behind him.

Reese walked over to the counter with the almost empty glass in his hand. It was a picture of him with Jessica. It was the one thing Carter kept when she shredded the files after visiting New Rochelle.

She knew who he was. But why did she keep it, he wondered. Reese thought about how Carter came to acquire the picture. She knew some of what he'd done, the thought of which hurt him. Above all, though, she knew who he could be. It's what she saw when she looked at the picture and what she chose to see when she looked at him.

Eventually, he would have to go back to the work he did. How he would do it without her, he couldn't yet comprehend. But Carter had believed in him and she would be his reason, lifting him from the limbo Fusco had described.

He raised the glass to his lips, closed his eyes, and took one final sip.


End file.
